


It wasn't nothing, but it wasn't everything either.

by alpacapanache



Category: Supernatural, The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Fandom Stocking 2017, Hair, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 03:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13226922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacapanache/pseuds/alpacapanache
Summary: Sometimes a ragtag group of magicians needs to escape and drown their feelings.(Title is a direct quote from Lev Grossman's 'The Magicians")





	It wasn't nothing, but it wasn't everything either.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kisahawklin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/gifts).



> For kisahawklin's 2017 Fandom Stocking!  
> Happy holidays, and I hope this puts you in the mood for the new SPN and Magicians episodes!  
> (It spiralled away from my initial idea, but I had to just accept that the characters had their own opinions.) <3

It's a dive, but it's also far from New York, far from Brakebills, and hopefully far enough away from the Beast and all the shit that's out to get them, and for tonight that's good enough. Eliot has a magical backdoor to some small town in Oregon no one has ever heard of, no he's not going to explain why, and Penny doesn't care enough to probe. It's quiet enough, serves beer in large pints and has over a hundred flavours of chicken wings.

They sit at a large table in the back, away from the middling crowd so they can focus on drinking. Penny leans back and puts his feet up on the table, silently challenging someone, anyone, to come over and say something. Quentin sips away at a large pint of MGD, carefully cradling the stein with both hands and smiling a bit awkwardly the further they progress through the large pitchers on the table. Alice does her best to relax and drink, to make this a thing that normal people do, people who don't grow up with magic and centaurs and orgies. Eliot laughs and regales them with stories of parties long past, his eyes shining overly-bright, while Margo leans against him and laughs at it all, their circumstances, the tales, and the fact that they're slumming it.

No one talks about Mike, or what happened to Eliza, but they don't need to. They've dedicated themselves to one night off, one night to just pretend things are ok and after a few hours of trying, it's almost working.

Margo does something to the jukebox, and a series of pop rock songs from the 90's fill the bar. To everyone's surprise, Alice gets up and joins her on the dance floor, happily oblivious that they're the only ones dancing. Penny rolls his eyes. Quentin and Eliot smush a bit closer to get a better view, and grin.

Margo notices them and yells, "This never happened!" and Eliot dips his head in surrender, casually putting his phone away. For now.

Eliot and Quentin get into a discussion about hedge witches, with Quentin trying to defend them, arguing that Brakebills should let them in and train them before they hurt themselves. Eliot argues against it, mostly to argue and not because he can muster any strong opinions on the topic at the moment. Also, Eliot knows it'll rile Quentin up, and he's enjoying the flush on his face and the way he stammers his words when he's trying to make a point.

They don't even realize they're getting loud until, "Witches? Whadda you know about witches?" They look up and see a tall muscular man with short-cropped hair and green eyes scowling down at them.

Quentin stammers, "Witches? What? No, ah, there's no witches here." Eliot looks up and stares appraisingly at the stranger.

The man starts again, "C'mon man. I heard you. Look, if you've got a witch problem. I'm your guy, ok. I fucking hate witches." He looks at each of them in turn. "Hate them." They can hear the way he slurs his words, and the smell of whiskey wafts over them.

Eliot and Quentin look at each other, and Penny considers getting up and doing something, but decides he'd rather watch the show.   
  
Another man approaches, taller than the first, and with surprisingly long chestnut locks. "Dean! What are you doing?"

"Sam. Sammy. Witches! They were talking about witches-"

"Ok, Dean, ok. I got it, just let me handle this." Sam puts his arm around Dean and carefully pulls him back a little. Slightly mollified, Dean barely resists.

"Really, I've got this. Just, go back over there and keep an eye out for Cas. He should be here soon."

Dean glares down at the table, then stops as Sam's words penetrate. "Right. Cas. I'll-" and he mumbles to himself as he makes his way to his seat at the bar.

Sam looks down at the group apologetically. When he takes Quentin in fully, his eyes widen slightly, and he hopes no one notices. "Guys, I'm so sorry about that. My brother's had a... an unusual night. Don't pay attention to him, ok? He doesn't mean any harm."

Penny arches a brow, then gestures for another round. "Prove it then."

Sam doesn't hesitate. "Oh! No problem. I'll send something over. And, you guys have a good night, ok?' Eliot smiles graciously, and replies, "We will. Now," with an overly-salacious wink. Sam disappears to place the order, and Eliot, Quentin and Penny lean in for a mini-conference.

"Wait. What do they know about witches?" Penny asks as soon as Sam's out of earshot.

"What's it matter? Did you see the hair on that guy?" Eliot stares off after Sam. "I've never seen a dude pull off that length. I wonder how long it takes him to get it that smooth?"

Quentin adds, "I wonder what shampoo he uses?" and Eliot nods thoughtfully.

Penny scowls. "Is that really what we're going to talk about now?"

"Yes," they reply, nearly in unison.

"I wonder if it's as soft as it looks?" Quentin runs his fingers through his own hair, then slumps a little in his chair.

Twenty minutes later, they're still discussing Sam and his hair when the ladies return to the table. As soon as the bartender brought over the pitcher, Penny claimed the entire thing as his own and worked his way through nearly half of it in the interim.

Margo listens for a minute, then looks over at Penny as though he's the only adult of the three. "How long has this been going on for?"

"Far too fucking long."

"And it's that guy over there they're obsessing over? Not that really pretty one next to him?"

"Yup."

She glares. "Horrible. Horrible taste there guys."

Alice looks at both Sam and Quentin, cheeks slightly flushed from the dancing and the large glass of beer she's polished off, appraising them for a few moments before adding, "Well, it's nice, but I think Quentin's hair is nice." She reaches over and strokes his hair, and Quentin leans right into her hand like a cat. "It's really nice."

He smiles, though he looks a touch bereft at the removal of her hand, and he subtly passes Alice a glass of water, just in case. "Thank you." He stares over again at Sam, not entirely convinced.

Penny rolls his eyes. "Ok, you know what. I'm done. Done. You guys are fucking stupid. You're whining," he points to Quentin who shrinks back a bit, " because your hair's not pretty enough and meanwhile that dude over there is subtly eyeing yours while his brother teases him about having competition. Get the fuck over yourselves. I'm out." And before anyone can respond, Penny's gone.

Margo looks around the room to see if anyone noticed but thankfully the jukebox has drowned out most of his outburst and the other patrons seem otherwise occupied. "He's got a good point you know. This is getting boring."

"Of course it is, Bambi." Eliot leans back and puts his arm around Margot. "The real tragedy here, is that no one is appreciating me when I'm obviously the finest specimen in the room."

It's hard to argue with Eliot, harder still to risk him spiraling back into depression, and so they encourage him. Quentin stares a little too closely at Eliot and smiles, while Alice stares even harder at Quentin. Margo grandly declares that Eliot is a king amongst men and they all forget about flowing long locks for awhile. Things are back to normal, pretend-normal, the new-normal, or whatever the hell this is, but for now everything is mostly alright. Everything is better than it was a few hours ago.

When they reach a natural break in the conversation, they look around and realize that Sam and his inebriated brother are gone, and that the bar has nearly emptied. They slowly but happily make their way back to Brakebills to crash on whatever comfortable surface they encounter first.


End file.
